Winter is the Season of Death
by wolfy447
Summary: When Mick Fabian, a meek and kind yet confident student at Hogwarts, is discovered to be overbearingly powerful he's forced to live out his seventh semester at graveyard composed of spirits from the mid to late eighties. The spirits of Camp Redwood find something to give meaning to their existential horror of existence in this new monster.
1. Taking ownership

How he wanted to suffer. The agony of this existence, wondering to and fro in a state of confusion, it was like being frozen. Living in a block of ice for ages. Almost and entire year since Bobby came to visit them. He barely knew the kind. Chet's story wasn't necessary. No one remembered him. Even Montana seemed surprised when they bumped into each other from time to time. He's gotten to the point where he pretends he's new in their presence. Making up stuff about the outside world. Convincing them to kill him over and over only so he can feel something.

This week, whatever week it may be, it feels like late November, he finds himself in a shadowy corner. His ghost had been there for three sunrises. Just as he felt like moving a weight reattached it's self to his arms and legs. The same weight that had pulled him down beneath the surface of such a cold lake. Darkness as he struggled against the desire to breath until life was snatched from him. He can feel a puddle forming beneath him as he can't stop thinking about it.

Snow falls outside the boat house. He can see the doc from here. Chet likes to watch the ice harden on the surface. He envisions the steam that rises in gusts of wind to be his soul reaching towards the heavens. He can't even remember the last time he looked upon the face of another spirit and just then Xavier enters the small frame in which he can glimpse out at the world.

Chet never knew how to feel about Xavier. The one week they spent around one another, alive, was so filled with adrenaline and chaos that neither one of them even remembers a single time they had a conversation. Between being speared in the shoulder and having his ear sliced off before sinking to the bottom of the lake Xavier currently finds himself wading in, Chet struggles to bring forth the memory of being rescued. Even if only to die that same night Chet recalls that Xavier was so quick to his aid after Ray abandoned him in that pit.

Of course Chet's slept with everyone who wonder's around this purgatory, that is except for Xavier. He honestly feels that it would be wrong. Why? Oh he doesn't know.

"Hey." Chet calls out to him and winces at the sound of pain in his own voice.

Xavier, now shirtless and dripping with droplets of frosting deluge, turns to smile at the boy hunkered down in a shadow in the boat house. "Hey Chet." Someone does remember. The smile fades as it dawns upon him that somethings wrong and he makes his way down the dock and up on the dirt path leading to the open doorway of the shed. He enters with a patient temperment and kneels down in front of someone he calls friend.

For a moment no words are spoken between them. They only lock eyes as the emotion bubbles around them to form the atmosphere. Speaking isn't necessary when you know what it's like to be invisible. Simply being there can thaw the ice.

After night finally falls Xavier is the one to speak. "How long do you think were going to be here? I know time doesn't really exist for us but- I mean do we really have to wait for a nuclear war or Armageddon to have something different happen in our lives?"

However, since Chet doesn't know the answer, he responds with another question. "Does your skin ever burn?"

Xavier gave him an odd look as he pondered. Eventually he came to a solid conclusion. "Yes." That's not all. ".. but rarely. In times where something new is happening. When we killed Margret. When Jingles son wondered into the camp. Just before Jingles stabbed me when I was showing Rimerez the body. Why do you ask?" Just as he finished his question Xavier became aware of the icy waters that now soaked through his white jeans. His eyes widened as he looked up at the kid who sat next to him staring off into space.

It was a shock to both of them when Xavier grabbed his had. Chet furrowed a brow as he looked over the delicate fingers now in his grasp. "Somethings about to happen." Xavier's face glistened with tears. A look of physical pain appearing over his profile. The salt stinging his red and peeling flesh.

Just then a person, a spirit rather, appeared just outside the door. Montana, a look of fear and excitement painted over her pale complection. A small smile appears on her lips. "Someone's in the camp."

She was right, in fact. Someone was on the grounds. Not just any someone either. Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva Mcgonagall accompanied by Minister of Magic Hermione Granger.

The two of them stand together looking out on the grounds from above. After a moment the older woman speaks, "Do you think he will be safe here?" She asks.

"His power harms anyone alive. Even disarms those who are trapped between this world and the next." Hermione sighs. I doubt we have a choice.

"It's a wasteland." McGonagall whispers.

"He'll turn into something spectacular. It's the only place hidden enough to conceal his gift." Hermione looks down at the crumpled up old newspaper in her worn hands. "I believe it's the perfect place for him to practice magic and refrain from causing involuntary hallucinogenic trances."

The two of them noticed that down below they had an audience. The dead were everywhere.

"The ghosts would disagree." Mcgonagall told her.

"Ghosts don't really lay claim now do they." Hermione turned and walked back through the treeline.

After another moments glance down at the disoriented souls down below she sighed, cracked her neck, then removed her wand from the strap on the side of her cloak. With a wave she whispered, "Daydreamers and believers one the same. Compose a mirror of self gain. Promiscuous. Presumptuous. Peculiar. Please. Radiate with meager ease. Deremridone. Dextrious. Domini Domino." A purple haze appeared from the tip of her fir with dragon heart string core. it bubbled up and expanded until the entire property line was concealed behind it. Then like steam, vanished.

She did the same.

"What the _FUCK_ was that?" among the spirits who had watched the event take place was none other than Margret Booth. The former owner of Camp Redwood and late wife to Trevor Kirchner who had been one of the many to lynch her into the wood chipper that took her life.

He, in fact, was the first to respond. "The new owners." And with the most wicked smile any of them had ever seen. He was right. Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic had bought out the haunted horror once known as 'Camp Redwood.'


	2. building a foundation

He stood in her office. Fear woven onto his face like a letter in a Christmas sweater he was being forced to wear. A holiday he was going to have to miss. He was physically trembling as she came through the door behind him.

Fabian couldn't look at her. Was it the embarrassment? Surely he wasn't mad at her. She was in fact a very kind woman. He'd been going here for six years and all of a sudden they couldn't keep him here? The Raven-claw common room had become home for an american muggle-born wizard. His family was a mess. A mother traveling all over the country for the sake of small obsessions that always faded. A father who doesn't even know his own name from the taste of burning rum that sprits across his chapped lips.

This place had become home. "If I'm being punished why aren't you sending me to Azkaban." He'd read the books. He knew the consequences for certain crimes and how sure he was that this was horrible.

McGonagall took a seat on the flat top surface of her desk as waved a hand in the air to stop the piano that had been composing on it's own making Fabian jump. "You're not being punished Fabian. According to the ministry you posses a gift. A gift we don't want to control or suppress. One you need to learn how to use for benefit. If you learn to use it for evil that is all you'll ever be. It's only for the remainder of the semester. If it doesn't work we will try something else. After this we intend to use a house we found in california-"

"But why." He interrupted her. I have no money. I have no family. I have nothing. Why, when it costs all this money, would you be willing to do this for me?"

She smirked in disapproval. "It's not me... I can afford to support myself and this school. Taking on a project like you is something only someone really important would do."

"You're important to me professor." The piano begin to play again, much softer this time. Both of them looked over in a subtle smile. "I'm trying to control it."

"I can tell." She snickered. "If you let go I'm sure you and I would be battling Goblins with violins through the kitchen." It was a joke but neither one of them laughed. She merely dismissed him as she returned to her paperwork which lay across her desk.

With her wand she summoned a blue surface in which she could send a message. Her reflection recorded these words, "I'm sending the boy at the end of the week. I'll need the house built by then. Be sure and use the new prints I sent you. The child needs to feel like he's being helped. The original plans make it seem like a prison." She tapped the center of the apparition and it disappeared in a flash.

Dobby gleamed with excitement as her message finished. He looked up from the new prints in his long bony fingers. "Alright guys." He called out to his elven friends. "We have a job to do."

Fifty of them marched through the entrance of Camp Redwood. The sun was just beginning to rise and the dead, which never sleep, were waiting for them on the inside.

How excited the ghosts were to have someone, or something to talk to. How defeated they all felt when the tiny human like creatures ignored them as they began moving wood with their minds and snaps of brown fingers. Snaps of light. Gushes of wind. A cry from the animals out in the forest. One hour passed. Then two. After the third the small creatures turned in a circle to face the perimeter of the frame they had built. Based on what they had already accomplished, when this house was finished, it was going to be massive. It might even reach past the clouds.

Montana gawked up at the sky. How she'd love to just touch it. Only once. Then she would be happy, maybe. Then she would feel like she had done something. Something new.

One by one the elves began their song. A soft hum at first from the base notes. Then slowly they rose into this enchanted dance of tenors and sopranos. When at last the Alto's chimed in a wave struck each one of the spirits.

Chet cried out as the feeling of wanting to breath struck his wind pipes and his face turned purple. Water flooded the ground around him and he took a knee.

Xander pressed a hand to the blisters forming on his face and winced as salt droplets trickled down his face and he looked over at Margret's lone head on the ground surrounded by her other limbs that were soon dissolving into puddles of flesh and blood before him.

Montana only froze and watched the chaos unfold around her. Why was she unaffected? Looking down at her hands and feet she frowned. How badly she wanted to feel the pain her friends were feeling.

The song got louder and louder.

Bullet holes reappeared on Trevor's body. Ray fell and his head rolled away only to look back at his body. Bobby vanished. His mother screamed as she took off after him. Benjamin turned around and grabbed a random councilor who was bleeding where her ear used to be and he began to stab her violently. Over and over they suffered in spouts of pain that seemed to never end until finally...

The song ended. The sun faded away. Another day was over.


	3. Sanding it Down

When at last the Elves had finished constructing the building the ghosts picked themselves up off the ground and took in a breath. How odd, ghosts don't breath now do they?

"I don't like this." Said Birdie, the old camp chef. "Not one bit."

"Let's give it a chance." Montana had a smile on her face.

Dripping with sweat Xavier walked up to her slinking his hand into the collar of her shirt. His eyes burned into her face as an on looker who didn't know they were already dead might worry he had cruel intentions. "They're torturing us."

Just then Dobby the house elf approached them. "Who's in charge in your... uh... community?" He asked as gleefully as possible. A tone that scared the hell out of most of the Ghost there.

"ME..." Bellowed Benji. "What did you do with bobby."

"That's bullshit he's not in charge I am." Montana demanded.

Ray and Xavier only laughed at her comment.

A dumbfounded look spread over the elf's face as he sighed. "Well... I guess it doesn't really matter. All of you should know I come from the Ministry."

"You're with the church?" Xavier scoffed. "Has God abandoned us all." Eyebrow arched in discontent.

"On the contrary." Dobby assured him. "The God(s), whoever they may be, have something special planned for they've delivered a being of new power to the wizard world."

"Can you translate. I'm not that smart..." Chet admited.

"Famous wizard Harry Potter has taken on a project. Said project is a student in attendance at Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry. A child who cannot yet control his power. They're keeping him here for the semester and I've been asked to communicate this to the current residents of 'Camp Redwood.' We require a few things from you." Dobby had this confidence about him that seemed off in comparison to his build.

"If we refuse."Said Margret with a sneer.

"As a former slave for a wizard family I can safely say there are things they can do to you that you can't even dream of. I'd suggest you cooperate it isn't like the muggle world is going to care that much if a group of people who went missing back in the eighties remain missing... just because you're dead doesn't mean you can't feel pain." For someone with a generous smile what he just said scared the hell out of all of them.

"What do you need?" Trevor asked, his arms crossed over his chest and his elephant trunk pressing against the inside of his pants like a third leg.

To Dobby, as short as he was, responding to the man felt like talking directly to the package. "Keep him alive. If he dies, even if it's his own fault, you will all reap the consequences." The elves behind him finished packing and began walking towards the exit. Before he turned to join them he said, "He'll be here soon. Try not to startle him. It may cause a reaction." The word echoed through the trees which now gave off the slightest scent of enchantment.

Mick Fabian sat on a bench in the main hall awaiting the bus to take him away. A silence in the massive corridor as he stared at nothing. Moments later the sound of footprints catch his attention and he turns to see two brightly dressed students making their way towards him. Other Ravenclaws.

The first, a tall boy in all black with cocoa eyes, slick back hair, a large hat, and a face that deeply resembled that of a panther. The other a girl with pulled back tame bright red hair, yellow eyes, and an orange owl perched on her shoulder. Such an odd color for a bird, Fabian caught himself thinking. Yet he loved how the glow really accessorized her character.

They took a seat on either side of him an sat in silence until the boy couldn't take it any longer. "How could you not tell us you were leaving?" He asked.

"Yeah." Said the girl. "We've been best friends since the sorting hat... you didn't even come to say goodbye."

Poor Fabian, with a mind that always spun, never really felt like he had managed to make let alone keep friends for six years. He hadn't the slightest clue how these two truly felt about him until this moment.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered. "I didn't really know what to say." He felt her grip tighten on his hand. "I'm scared." A hushed whisper.

The boy pulled out from beneath his cloak a designer bag and unzipped it to reach inside. Pulling out a bill fold he flipped to the third flap and slipped his fingers inside one of the fabric seals to reveal a photo. It was the four of them, the students and Haley's owl in their third year outside professor sprouts class with a special herb she had one in a mini competition the professor had held that afternoon. They were laughing and shoving one another as they debated on who should take it.

Haley sighed as she stuck her hand in one of her own pockets to pull out the very herb in the photo, concealed in a vile attached to a sting she reached over and tied it around Fabians neck to hang in front of the round seashell spiral amulet he had always worn. Moments later Madam Hooch stood in the doorway with a sodden smile as if to say 'it's time.'

He stood up, turned to hug each of his friends (taking extra long to hold onto Eli), then grabbed his suitcase and headed towards the door. He looked back only once, "Call me beep me." He grinned.

"If you ever need me." They responded in chorus.

The door shut behind him and the entire hall grew dim as the make believe sky on the ceiling above them cracked with thunder and lightning. The strong cry of a violin entranced them both and they stood there holding one anther as the strings played their song. How they only hoped he would survive. An ally. Am adversary. A friend.


	4. Windows

A bus from London England to Oakhurst California? Is that possible? Well maybe not for a muggle. But for a warlock, it's very possible. No only possible but fast. A trip that doesn't last eight minutes.

Fabian stepped off onto the dirt road leading into the camp. The bus left with a gust of wind that made him feel the utter seclusion of the place he now had to call home. What if they didn't let him leave? What if he got too strong and they showed up one day only to execute him? What if he loses his powers to something worse than him? All these questions but no one to ask them to.

Wait-

Emotions so intense they're like Ice in his veins.

-Please, it's so painful.

Fabian was tall, but not too tall, standing at about 5'11''. He had shaggy brown hair that hung around his head and almost covered his sapphire eyes. Tan skin, covered in a white t-shirt and a button up black dress shirt the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. A pair of dark, denim, skinny jeans that gripped his muscles and made him feel constricted as he took a knee in the woe of his agony. His trout like lips quivered and he drew in long shaky breaths through his nose.

How brave Montana must be. Or incredibly naiive. For now she approaches this... monster... with sympathy and remorse rather than with fear. No one fears music. They let it shackle them. They let it course their veins and turn them into mindless consumers that will do what ever they can to get what they want.

Don't you hear it now? The trees them selves sway in wind that isn't there. They move in rhythm.

She kneels down before him and pressed her soft pale hands to his. His nails digging into the dirt, eyes clenched shut, he gasps. When he looks at her she see it. The vast glowing neon purple from the depths of his pupils. A light that grows as he stares at her. "What are you?" She whispers as she backs away.

"I don't know..." He admits as somewhere behind her the relentlessly pained violin cries out what sounds like _her_ name. She tried to run. Hell, she got pretty far. She didn't stand a chance. In touching him she has already made herself his slave. Neither one of them are okay with this arrangement but as the storm clouds gather and the thunder hits like a sizzling snare, she freezes.

He walks to the beat as desire embeds it's self in his chest, a humming bird trapped in a bone cage. He stands before her and waits.

The rain falls.

She takes a step back. He steps towards her. Their hands meet and the battle begins. Only in this game... the only weapon is sensuality.

Back, 1, 2. Forward, 1, 2. Spin. A sudden blast of technicolor and synthwaves as they come to a pause only to reenter the heavy flow of the rythm as is stopping would surely bring on the nuclear war. left, right, lift. He throws her and she lands on edge of the cliff just above the water. There's fear in her eyes but she doesn't stop. Lunging for him he takes her into his arms and they spiral down the road until they come to the opening where the showers still stand tall.

They have an audience now. The entire camp, hunkered down in trees, admire as though they are safe. they're not.

As the flood gates open and the steam begins to flow around our leads the extras fall from the branches to join in on the chaos. Soon dozens of partners battle around him and her in an eighteenth century joust. Sword to sword. Even their attire has taken on the illusion that this is a chivil mid evil era.

He pulls her in. She pushes him away only to lean back into the warmth of his chest. Heads roll. Blood splatters across the walls. Screams that harmonize to the chorus interject a certain rush of adrenaline as we enter the bridge and only three sets of partners remain. Xavier clutches Chet, gripping him around his throat with bear hands. Margret's sword is at Trevor's chest. Fabian's palms slip inside Montana's shirt to press against the skin on her back.

Back, 1, 2. Forward, 1, 2. Spin. Two bodies fall into the water and Chet holds his sword to Trevor's. "On Guard." They both cry and we enter the final chorus.

It's aggressive. It's vile. It's hot. Is that rain or sweat? Blood maybe streams down your face in the place of tears. Trevor swoops in and takes Montana and both of their spirits vanish leaving Chet alone with this beast. The music abruptly stops and we return to the year 2020 as an odd feeling courses this warlocks body. The feeling of obsession at this creature that stands before him soaking wet and dripping with blood.

Fabian steps forward but Chet runs. Released from the shackles of what ever just happened all he can think about is getting away from this monster. Leaving the student alone once more with nothing but his demons to keep him company.


End file.
